


Sun Motes

by Frozenleaf



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Presumably aged up, Semi-established relationship, like a Fluffy Wooloo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frozenleaf/pseuds/Frozenleaf
Summary: Bede isn't sure what to make of Hop combing his hair, but it's an infuriating experience. He certainly isn't enjoying any of this.
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Hop
Comments: 24
Kudos: 231





	Sun Motes

**Author's Note:**

> petition to call bedexhop woolooheadshipping ok bye

"I like your hair."

Bede grunts. It takes all his effort to remain poised, to keep his back straight and legs crossed on his mattress. He tries his hardest not to glance at the mirror in front of him, tries not to move as warm fingers run a comb through his hair.

"It's a mess."

"That's why I'm here."

Hop hums. His tune is joyful and warm, an unfamiliar melody that seeps through Bede's skin and down to his toes. It's just like his smile, kind and soft, visible only in the mirror. His shoulders are broad, silhouetting Bede's own frail form. He can make out the definition of his arms, his torso.

_Remembers how it's like, to run his hand down them. To touch the muscles, feel the warmth of skin against his palms-_

He shifts uncomfortably, and the humming stops as Hop clicks his tongue. "Gotta stay still if you want me to finish, you know."

"Before, or after lunch?" Bede shoots back. "I have gym challengers to tend to."

"And I've got to get back to my Morgrem population survey too," Hop retorts. "Don't worry, I'm a pro Wooloo comber."

"Is that what my hair is, now? A Wooloo?" Bede arches an eyebrow, and Hop chuckles.

His voice is warm and soft, ringing in the usually quiet, empty room that Bede calls his own. Ballonlea isn't _cold_ per se, but Hop's laugh is of sunlight, of a world that Bede once tread in and hated.

It's strange how he let it in here, now.

"I like it," Hop admits, his fingers brushing against Bede's earlobe as he toys with his hair.

"It's unruly and wild and you don't have to live with it." Bede sighs. "Just don't make me look like one of your countryside sheep _._ "

"Would that be so bad?" There's a teasing hint to his voice now, one that reminds Bede of the way he looked at him last night, with an arched eyebrow and bright smile.

_Accepting and warm and arms wide open, and he wants nothing to fall into them, to run his own fingers through that dark hair-_

Bede clamps down on those thoughts. Scowls. "Wooloo merely follow what they're told. They run away at the slightest hint of danger."

"You've never seen a Wooloo in action, huh." Hop shakes his head. "They're headstrong too, and they're tougher than they look. If they don't feel the pain through their coats, they just keep going. But," Hop adds with a chuckle, "they're really sweet when it comes down to it."

"Are you calling my hair sweet?"

A pause. An exaggerated sigh. He can see Hop scrunch his face up in the mirror. "No, mate, your hair's tangling the comb a lot more than a Wooloo."

Bede hates how part of him wants to laugh at how _stupid_ the joke is. Hates how his cheeks are flushed as Hop's fingers brush across the nape of his neck. "I can comb it myself," he snaps. "You're the one who insisted."

"Yeah." Hop chuckles, his voice soft on his breath as he ducks his eyes away from the mirror. "Frankly, I'm surprised you even let me."

Bede is, too. He's surprised that the first thing he did when he woke up wasn't to chase Hop away from his bed, from Ballonlea, from anywhere near him. That he watched him sleep until his eyelids fluttered open and he smiled at him. Let him greet him with an uncharacteristically soft voice, his golden eyes shining. Basked in the unusual warmth that his presence brought to his usually quiet morning, and now-

Pain springs from the roots of his hair, and he hisses. He's about to turn, except Hop stills him with a loose hand on his shoulder.

"What did I tell you?" There's an exasperated sigh, a warm breath against his neck that makes his hair stand. He can hear Hop roll his eyes as tender fingers knead into the pain. "You need to relax, Bede."

"Maybe I'd relax more if _I_ was the one combing _my_ hair," he snaps back, and regrets it immediately when there's a sharp intake of breath behind him.

He ducks his head. Bites his lip. It's strange, to see Hop here in his bed, to have Hop comb his hair, to have him touch him so casually, like it doesn't mean a thing. Part of him recoils at all of this, because it's strange and it's _new_ and Bede has no idea how to react.

Hop's hands pull away. The comb sits gently on the mattress.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he asks gently.

 _Yes. No._ The two answers line up at the tip of Bede's tongue, one born of instinctual reaction, the other...

He lets out a low breath. "Since you started it, you may as well finish it." He straightens, lifts his head, and tries to ignore the weird thumping in his chest that Hop's presence incites.

A gentle chuckle. "Whatever you say, my prince." The murmur bears no ill-will, just amusement, and Bede is grateful that the humming resumes, and warm fingers thread through his hair again.

"Relax," a voice breathes in his ear.

Bede tries to do as he's asked. He eases the tension off his shoulders, lets his body sag ever so slightly into Hop's comforting touch.

_It's nothing like the night before, when passion had those same fingers grabbing him tight, when golden eyes burned through him and all around him and it's warm and it's all he wants, if only for a moment-_

Bede's cheeks are hot, not solely from the lackadaisical way Hop speaks to him so casually, so gently. He focuses on the movement of the comb, on the heat of the body behind him, so close he could almost lean into it. Focuses on his position, so that he doesn't. Doesn't turn, doesn't indulge in the warmth that he's tasted briefly but knows not what to do with.

"I really _do_ like your hair."

The humming's stopped. With a last few tugs, the fingers move through his scalp, the comb easing its way gently through his stubborn curls before it's through. A softness rings through the air, a tenderness that Bede isn't sure how to deal with.

Hop's smiling at him from the reflection. Golden eyes watch him with a gentle, happy care. His silhouette can engulf him if he tried, but he doesn't. He waits, unmoving, as if he belongs here, in this portrait of the two of them.

 _"Thank you,"_ Bede should say. His curls look no different than his usual style, with no trace of messiness or imperfection. He should move up, prepare for the day, pretend none of this ever happened.

But he stays still until Hop moves- and suddenly, his hand latches onto the other man's wrist, his eyes finding golden ones.

"Bede?" A question to answer his own.

He knows and doesn't know the answer. All he knows is that when Hop leaves, the sunlight will go, back to the countryside, to the rolling hills, and even though he has no right to, has no reason to-

"Don't leave," he whispers. "Not yet."

Hop's still, but there's no resistance when Bede pulls him back, pushes him down on the mattress. Hop's arms wrap around him as he comes closer, and Bede basks in the gentle warmth of his gaze, his smile.

"You'll mess up the hair," Hop murmurs.

"Then you'll fix it back again," Bede replies. "Before lunch."

Hop grins his stupid little grin. It's enough, and Bede lunges forward, catches his lips with his own.

There's no need to pretend this isn't what he wants anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> i totally only started to ship bedexhop just because i think hop would be very good at combing Bede's hair after all the years he spent with Wooloo/Dubwool. 
> 
> Happy New Year everyone!


End file.
